The Real Greg Sanders
by White N Nerdy
Summary: Three little light hearted tales revolving around Greg centered episodes of the show and featuring special guest appearances by his very over protective mother...
1. Play With Fire

**The Real Greg Sanders**

"Can you see the real me, mother? _Can ya_?!"—The Who

_Rated K+ for a teensy bit of language._

**Foreword**

Vague summary, I know. Basically it's events from the show (episodes "Play With Fire," "Who Shot Sherlock," and "Fannysmackin") and how Greg's mother reacts to them. I really loved Greg's character even more after "Fannysmackin" when he admits that he's an only child with an overly protective mother. It just made him more…interesting I suppose. What with his youthful, upbeat attitude when he really just doesn't want his mom to worry about him.

Anywho, I wrote these little things in the hopes that it was something kinda different, but not too complicated or involved. Rather than finishing the long, complicated story I mentioned in "Chasing the Lab Rat," I looked at it and said "God, what a mess…" and started something completely different. And better! Yay! So hopefully that'll be posted sometime next year. Hopefully. This stuff is just filler crap cause I had writer's block or whatever.

And of course the title of the story is from a Who song. It's CSI, for crying out loud! I actually saw The Who in concert last month, and oh man did they put on a great show for being a couple of old guys :)

**Part I. Play With Fire**

"…I…I just thought you should hear it from me."

CSI Catherine Willows took a seat and looked intently at the young man who was lying on his side, barely conscious as he stared up at her. She chewed on her lip for a moment as her confident smile fell. Now that she was here to tell him about what had happened to him, she wondered where she could possibly begin…might as well start with the truth. She took a deep, calming breath.

"It was all my fault, Greg," she finally blurted in a shaky voice. "Warrick and I were working a case and I…I left an identified chemical on the heater in your lab. That's what caused the explosion. It was all my fault and I am so, _so_ sorry that you got hurt…"

She looked genuinely upset, close to tears even, but Greg Sanders just smiled goofily up at her. He blamed it on the pain meds running rampant in his system and the fact that he'd just woken up from a particularly bizarre, fiery nightmare to see her beautiful, but pitying face. He asked her if she was joking.

"What?" Catherine said, looking astounded. "No…no Greg, this isn't a joke. It's my fault the lab blew up. It's my fault you got hurt."

"Oh." He frowned when he realized she really wasn't kidding. "Well, that…sucks." He cleared his dry throat and winced.

"I'm really sorry, Greg…"

"But it was an accident, right?"

"A terrible accident," Catherine confirmed. "Do you hate me?"

He wanted to laugh again, but his throat hurt too much. "Nooo…oh no. Like you said, it was just an accident. The lab's paying for my hospital bills, right?"

Catherine blinked. "Um, yeah…the health insurance should cover it…"

"And I get some time off, right?"

"I don't think they'll be letting you out of here any time soon, to be honest…"

"Okay…and I'm getting 'Get Well Soon' presents too, _right_?"

She actually smiled at him. That was Greg—always seeing the humorous side of an otherwise bleak situation. "Yeah, Greggo," she said softly with a light pat to his shoulder. "You sure are."

"Sounds good. Honestly I'm just glad my ears stopped ringing." He grinned weakly back at her before groaning again as he shifted and tried to get comfortable on the bed. It was awkward, lying on his side like this, and each slight movement sent tremors of pain down his back. He tried, and failed, to hide his winces.

"Are you okay?" Catherine asked with concern. "I can call the nurse—"

"Naw," Greg said breathlessly with a light cough. "I'm good, just…really tired."

She nodded in understanding but never stopped staring at him with that sympathetic, motherly look of hers. He remembered then what she'd said about the time.

"Hang on…so, it's late, and you're not working?" he asked with another cough.

She shook her head. "I'm going to be here for a while."

Greg cleared his dry throat, but didn't even need to ask her "why" when she answered his unsaid question.

"I've...got some free time on my hands. Apparently almost killing a colleague warrants a week long suspension."

He raised his eyebrows at the word, "suspension," but she shrugged off his concern.

"Hey I deserve longer if you ask me. But I figured I might as well spend my time off with you, apologizing at least."

"Thanks," he whispered, even as his eye lids started to grow very heavy.

She put a gentle hand on his. "Just feel better, okay?"

He nodded ever so slightly and sent her one last reassuring smile before burying his face in the pillow.

He fell back asleep not long after that, glad that Catherine had told him the truth about what happened. Sure it sucked, and sure he was still scared shitless that something as simple as a left on heater could blow him sky high, but at least he hadn't caused the accident. He would have felt really stupid being in this mess if it was his own fault.

Time passed, how much Greg was unsure. He must have been sleeping pretty deeply though, because his head felt stuffy and drained as he awoke. Something in his blank mind had roused him, and as he regained consciousness a violent shiver ran down his spine. It was that feeling he got when something was going to happen—usually something not very good.

Catherine, who was still sitting at his bedside, put down the scientific journal she'd been reading and looked at him with concern. His whole body had quaked and his fogged over eyes were rapidly blinking awake as he looked around with a bewildered expression on his pale face.

"Greg, are you alright?"

His eyes snapped to attention and met hers. He shook his head slightly and shuddered with a wince. "I mean, yeah…I'm okay. I just…got this really _weird_ feeling…"

Before he could elaborate on said feeling, they heard the sound of hurried steps and frantic voices outside in the hallway.

"Ma'am, Ma'am! Visiting hours aren't until eleven…you can't be up here…"

"Where is he?!" a shrill voice shrieked back. "Where is my baby?!"

The yelling and stamping of feet grew steadily louder before finally stopping in the hallway outside of Greg's hospital room. Catherine looked quizzically towards the entranceway, wondering why someone would think a baby was in the room.

The door suddenly flew open and a petite woman with bobbed brown hair that was flecked with streaks grey stood breathing heavily in the doorway. Her face was pale and she gasped when she saw the lab rat lying on his side in the hospital bed.

"Gregory!"

Greg had his head turned as far as he could in his position, which was just enough for him to see the newcomer burst into the room. He looked completely flabbergasted as his eyes widened and he croaked, "Mom?!"

A small grin tugged at Catherine's mouth as she watched the exchange between upset mother and very surprised son. Of course the CSI had called Greg's family as soon as she was suspended and realized no one else had. After what she'd done to him she figured calling his mother was the least she could do.

"Oh my God! Sweetheart, what happened to you?"

The woman rushed to her son's side and held her hands out, looking like she wanted nothing more than to embrace him but was afraid of hurting him the process. Greg's face flushed with embarrassment. He pushed himself upright a little, hiding his winces very well in the hopes that the horrified look on her face would go away.

"Mom, I'm fine…"

Before his mother could reply, three other figures made their way into the room. The first was a hospital employee, based solely on the fact that she was wearing pink scrubs. The nurse looked thoroughly frustrated, but wisely wasn't making any attempts to pry the woman from her son. The couple that entered after her was obviously related to Greg, based on their physical features alone—the man had broad shoulders and a square jaw, while the woman had the same straight nose and wide, brown eyes, all of which were almost identical to the other two Sanders in the room. But these two were even older than Greg's mother, and the man towered over the woman standing next to him. Concerned looks crossed their faces but they managed to remain composed as they strolled past the irate nurse to the foot of Greg's bed.

The lab rat had to strain his neck even further to see them. "Grandma…Grandpa…what are you guys doing here?"

"Making sure you are still living," the older man said in a deep, slightly accented voice. "Your mother worried for you."

"Even when I told her you were fine," the grandmother said matter-of-factly. "I believe I would be first to know if my Gregers had died."

She winked and a small smile forced its way onto Greg's face but quickly disappeared again as he glared at his mother while she ran a hand through his limply spiked hair.

"My poor baby," she said softly in a shaky voice

"Ma, I'm okay…really…"

His mother looked close to tears. "No you're not. Look at you—in a hospital… I could have lost you, Gregory."

"_Mom_," Greg uncharacteristically whined through gritted teeth. "I'm telling you I'm fine. Just ask the nurse lady—hey, nurse lady, I'm fine, right?"

"Of course you're not fine," his mother said before the nurse could respond. "You're hurt, Gregory. Your back…"

"What? My back's good." Greg demonstrated to her just how good he really was by making a show of turning to lay on his back rather than on his side. He hid an agonized groan by sighing deeply. The nurse just shook her head at him. "See? I'm fine."

"Oh, Gregory…"

Mother and son went back and forth like this for a bit, while Catherine, as an outsider in the situation, took the opportunity to study the strange family. Greg's mother was a bit…_older_ than Catherine would have expected her to be. The lab rat was still a young man, after all. And Mrs. Sanders looked like she was sixty at least, aged gracefully, but still aged.

And not "Mrs." Catherine concluded. Her keen observation skills noticed that the woman wore no wedding ring. Divorced most likely, though Catherine hoped her relationship with Greg's father wasn't quite as rocky as hers had been with Eddie. But then again for all the CSI knew Greg's father could have passed away, or been nonexistent altogether. She suddenly regretted not knowing more about the young man that she worked alongside every day.

She turned her attention to the older couple—Greg's grandparents. Catherine guessed that they were somewhere in their eighties. It was hard to tell with their wrinkled, wizened faces. He was very tall and thin in contrast to her petite and more rounded form. But they both gave an air of two very loving, very caring grandparents as they stood hunched slightly over Greg's bed. They weren't nearly as vocal or personable as the lab rat's mother was, but they didn't need to be. Their presence alone was comfort enough.

Then Catherine looked once more at the lab rat himself. The day before in the hospital he'd been playing it cool, like getting blown through a glass wall wasn't really _that _big of a deal. But now with his mother doting on him, his cool façade faded into an uncomfortable flush while he whined. Catherine had lost count of how many times he'd insisted he was fine as his mother went over his injuries, gasping with horror and sympathy every time she saw even the slightest hint of a bruise or a bandage on him.

It was adorable, really—the always confident, independent Greg Sanders was embarrassed of his overly affectionate mother.

"…No, ma, that's Catherine Willows," Greg was saying. "She's one of the Crime Scene Investigators I work with."

"Ah. Nice to meet you Ms. Willows."

The CSI was pulled from her internal musings when Greg's mother suddenly addressed her. She smiled warmly and held her hand out. "Oh, it's just Catherine."

The other woman nodded stiffly while she shook Catherine's hand. "Did you find out what happened to my son? I heard something about an accident..."

The CSI nodded hesitantly. Her conversation with the lab rat's mother had been brief the night before, as Ms. Sanders was initially more concerned to hear what hospital Greg was in rather than why he was there in the first place. Now that Catherine had to tell the woman what happened to her son, she found herself feeling the same nervousness she'd felt before telling Greg.

"Yes," she started slowly. "I was—"

"It was my fault," Greg blurted loudly. "I was being stupid…I did something stupid with the heater thing or whatever and blew myself up."

Catherine raised an eyebrow in Greg's direction and he frantically shook his head.

"You _blew_ yourself up?!" His mother looked horrified.

"Yup," he said boldly. "Blew myself right through a giant glass wall. I did it, it was my fault, and I swear I won't do it again."

His grandfather chuckled at that. "I should hope not."

"This isn't funny, Papa," Greg's mother snapped. "And this isn't a joke, Gregory. You're seriously hurt—you could have been _killed_."

"Yeah, but here I am…fine and talking to you. You guys didn't even have to come."

"And I'm sure you never would have even called me if it was up to you, would you have?"

Greg shrugged half heartedly. "I don't see any sense in worrying you over nothing."

"Nothing?! You call this _nothing_?!"

"Ma'am, please." All eyes turned to the nurse who was finally speaking up again. "Visiting hours aren't for another three and half hours, and you can't be in here yelling while other patients are sleeping. If you want to stay you'll have to wait downstairs until your son's doctor comes to speak with you."

"B-but—"

"Ms. Willows has permission to be here, you don't."

Greg's mother looked back and forth, from her son to the nurse, debating over whether she should listen to the more authoritative figure and leave, or stay with her boy and argue until someone managed to drag her out by force. Luckily for her, her father solved the problem for her.

"We will come back," the old man said wisely.

"It has been a long night, and we need some rest," his wife added pointedly.

"Oh, yeah," Greg piped up. "See, Nana needs her beauty sleep. You guys should probably go…"

His mother frowned at him. "You really don't want me here, do you?" she asked dejectedly.

"Nooo," Greg said quickly. "I didn't mean that. It's just…you kinda…surprised me is all."

His mother stared sadly down at him, glancing occasionally to the still silent Catherine and back.

"I'm going to call security if you don't go," the nurse warned when no one moved for a long moment.

"Alright, alright," Ms. Sanders snapped back. "We'll come back later. Nana, Papa, we're going to go find some place to stay."

"You can stay at my apartment," Greg offered quickly.

"Is it clean?" His mother raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"Um…I think so…kind of…"

"That's alright," she said with a forced smile. "We'll stay in a hotel. It'll be…_lovely_, I'm sure." The nurse cleared her throat loudly. "Say goodbye to Nana and Papa, Gregory." She stepped back so her parents could bid their injured grandson farewell.

The lab rat's grandmother rested a gentle hand on her grandson's unscathed cheek. "You be careful, Gregers." She leaned down so her forehead was touching his when she whispered, "and be sure to keep in touch." She pointed to his temple and he grinned at her, as if the two were sharing some sort of deep seated secret. Catherine for one was baffled.

As Greg's grandfather stepped forward he fished a small, wrapped box out of his pocket. "Here, my little _gutt_," he said affectionately. "For a few days late birthday." He set the package down on the bed in front of Greg.

"Aw, geez, you didn't have to do that. I already got the card—"

The old man held up his hand and Greg fell silent. "But it is not every year Gregers turns twenty eight. Go on, open it."

Catherine craned her neck to see the lab rat toss the wrapping aside and flip open a velvet lined box. She got a glimpse of a shiny coin, a penny or something, inside. It didn't look like much to her but Greg gasped, his eyes widening in awe as a smile grew on his face.

"Holy crap…I mean, wow, thanks, Papa Olaf."

The older man simply smiled and nodded in response while turned to walk out of the room with his wife. Greg's mother returned to his side with that sympathetic look still on her face as she stared down at her son. She put a gentle hand on his unscathed cheek.

"As soon as I get Nana and Papa settled I'm coming right back here to sit with you, alright?"

"Alright," he said, apparently too tired to argue.

She leaned down to kiss his forehead. "I'll be right back, I promise."

"I know you will."

"See you soon."

"Yup."

"I love you, Greg."

He cleared his throat, eyes darting to Catherine for a second before he muttered, "I love you too, mom."

The woman hesitated and ran a hand through her hair, looking like she wanted nothing more than to stay by his side. The nurse cleared her throat again and Greg's mother finally turned to follow her parents out of the room. The nurse escorted them out and closed the door behind her. Greg sighed with audible relief after they left. His eyes locked with Catherine's for a second before he looked away with a blush rising in his cheeks.

"So," he said with a light cough. "That was my family. Freaking out over nothing, as usual…"

"I was going to tell her the truth, Greg," Catherine blurted, hating that Greg had felt like he had to lie to them about the accident. "You didn't need to take the fall for me."

His eyes darted to the door, as though to make sure his mother was really out of earshot. "Yeah, well, if she knew the truth she would've freaked out on you and then gone after the whole lab with like a law suit or something. At least this way the only person she can blame this on is me, and even if she tells me to quit I won't."

"But, Greg—"

"Ah—no 'buts' about it. This is good. This'll work." He paused, looking thoughtful for a second. "Oh, crap, just one more thing—if my mom comes back and talks to you again, don't mention I've been doing field work."

She blinked at him. "You've been doing field work?"

"_Yes_, I've been doing field work," he retorted. "The bus thing and I helped get that coin dealer murderer guy…"

"Hmm, I don't remember those cases."

Greg rolled his eyes at her. "Yeah, well, Grissom's letting me do more stuff outside the lab and I'm really considering taking the CSI field tests."

"Really?" Catherine said, surprise evident in her voice. "Since when?"

"Since I got blown out of my safe, cozy little laboratory." She looked guiltily at the floor and Greg quickly tried to take back what he said. "That's not…I mean, I've been thinking about it for a while now anyway and…this was a good thing, really." He smiled reassuringly at her.

She didn't smile back. "Okay, but why are we hiding this from your mother?"

"'Cause she will _flip_ out if she thinks I'm putting myself in any more danger than I'm already in. I've already gotta talk my way out of this debacle."

"I'm sure she'll understand. She seems like she really cares about you, Greg."

"I know," the lab rat moaned. "That's the problem…"

"I just can't believe how quickly she got here. I only called her last night. Your family lives in California, right?"

"Yeah, southern Cali," Greg muttered before doing a double take. "Wait—_you_ called her?!"

Catherine nodded.

"Ask me again if I hate you," Greg said grimly.

The CSI knew better than to take him seriously, so she laughed, and after a moment even Greg couldn't help but smile.


	2. Who Shot Sherlock?

**Part II. Who Shot Sherlock?**

Greg shoved open the door to his apartment, stumbling a little after his few glasses of celebratory champagne. He just couldn't keep a smile off his face. He heard quiet, rushed voices and a steady beep and realized he'd walked in just in time to miss a phone call. Apparently whoever called him had left him a message as well.

Greg tossed his jacket to the side and sank comfortably down onto his sofa. He let his finger hover over the play button on his answering machine as he said aloud no one in particular, "I wonder who's calling to congratulate me now…"

He was somewhat surprised to find that he had not one, but five new messages from the day before. It dawned on him then that it was around one in the morning. He'd been busy at the lab working as he doubled and even tripled his shift to solve his final proficiency case, after which he was given the rest of the night off to celebrate and relax before his grueling life as a full time CSI could begin.

But wait a second…if he'd been in the lab for over twenty four hours…was it Wednesday or Thursday… …or even the weekend already? And who would possibly be calling him at his apartment this late?

The first message, left at approximately 9 am the day before, began to play. Greg groaned and forgot whatever he'd been thinking about when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hi, sweetie, it's mom. Just wanted to catch you before I went out, but I guess you're still at work…that's okay I'll call you later. Bye!" _Beep_.

Greg knew what day it was now. Friday. His mother called him every Friday.

The second message was left a few hours later, around noonish.

"It's mom again. Are you _still_ at work? I keep telling you, working all the time isn't healthy…just look at how miserable your father is. Anyway, I guess I'll just have to call you later. Bye, sweetheart." _Beep_.

Greg rolled his eyes after that message, and wasn't surprised to hear that the next one was also from his mother.

"Gregory I'm at dinner with Nana and Papa. They say hello. Will you just call me back already? I'm starting to get worried." She sighed. "I'll try again later…" _Beep_.

Greg was sitting up on the sofa by now. She said she was getting worried, which was never a good sign.

The fourth message was from half past ten. She sounded more urgent now, her voice laced with concern.

"Damn it, Greg, where are you? I've been calling you all day…you'd better not be trying to scare me, young man. Nana insists you're fine, so why won't you answer your phone?! I don't know what to do…I'll have to call the police, see if you're a missing person…maybe I'll just call the Crime Lab. You'd better not have been working this whole time or I swear to God I'll—" She was cut off by a short _beep_.

Greg had been mildly amused by her first couple of messages, but after that last message he started to panic. He really, _really _didn't want her to call the lab.

The final message, the one that had finished as Greg entered his door just moments before, started to play and his mother's voice echoed through the room again, only now it was shaking from both anger and anxiety.

"That's it, I'm calling the laboratory—"

Greg didn't even wait to hear the rest of the message. He bolted off the sofa and snatched the phone off its receiver. He dialed quickly and the other line only rang once before it was answered with a click.

"Mom!" Greg said before she could even say "hello." "Mom, I'm fine…everything's fine…you don't have to call the lab."

"Gregory!" she gasped. He could practically feel the relief emanating off of her through the phone line. "Where have you been? I've been trying to call you all day…"

"I know, I know," he said quickly. "But you didn't call the lab yet, did you?"

"No…no I can't find the number. I know I wrote it down somewhere..."

"Oh thank God," Greg sighed as he sank back down onto the sofa.

"Wait a second," his mother was saying. "Why wouldn't you want me to call there? Are you hiding something from me?"

Greg swallowed hard. "What? Nooo…no way," he lied. "Why would I need to hide something about work from you?"

"I don't know," she replied suspiciously. "Is that where you were all day?"

"Um, yeah," he admitted. "I worked a little overtime but only because it was such a big case. You know—lots of DNA and evidence and stuff." He added a quick, reassuring, "and we got the bad guy, just so you know. Actually it was a bad _girl_, but whatever…we got her."

There was a pause on the other line while the older woman processed what her son was telling her. "Well, that's good I suppose."

"Oh yeah, it was awesome. I was a big help. I'm like a hero over there now. You should've seen it."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, Gregory," she said genuinely. "I'm very proud of you. You know I'm proud of you, don't you?"

"Of course I do, ma. But you've been worrying over nothing, really."

She sighed. "I just don't think it's good for you to be working so hard. I mean, look what happened to your father…"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Jesus, you talk about him like he's dead…"

"I do not," she insisted. "But that's not the point. The point is he works too hard, and so do you."

"Dad runs an important business—he actually has a lot of work to do."

"He says you haven't been speaking to him."

Greg was taken aback by that. "Wait—I didn't know _you_ were speaking to him."

"Of _course_ I am," she said. "Just because we're divorced doesn't mean we can't be civil towards each other."

"Oh," he mumbled for lack of a better response.

"When was the last time you've even _seen _your father?"

Greg scratched his head in thought. "I guess…graduation. When I got my Masters. He was at my graduation for like five minutes before he had to fly out for some conference or whatever. When would I even have time to talk to him anymore, anyway—he's always working twenty four seven…" He paused when he realized what he'd just said.

"You mean like you work _twenty four seven_?"

"I…that's different," he said defensively. "The lab is different. And unlike dad, I enjoy what I do. I have _fun _in the lab."

"It's not safe there," she said, the concern rising in her tone again. "Don't you remember what happened to you?"

He groaned. "Uh, not really…"

"The explosion! You don't remember _that_?!"

"I told you it was an accident," Greg insisted as he definitely did not want to have _this_ argument again. "Besides, I'm totally fine."

"But you weren't."

"Mom…"

"You have no idea how frightened I was," she said in a quivering voice. "To receive a call that you were hurt…that you were in the _hospital_…and I was miles away…" She let out a shaky breath. "I don't think I'd ever cried harder in my life."

Her voice faltered with emotion and Greg found himself feeling immensely guilty. "Mom…I'm really sorry I scared you. Then and today."

She sniffled. "I'm sorry too, sweetheart. Sorry I overreacted."

He was almost surprised to hear her apologizing to him for once. "Uh, well, that's alright. Besides, I wouldn't really call that _overreacting_. You've done way worse."

"I can't help it. I love you too much, Gregory."

"I know. I love you too, mom."

"But I still think you should get a different job."

"Not happening, mom."

"One's that safe—"

He groaned. "My job is _safe_."

"—and doesn't involve explosions and murderers and criminals and—"

"Mom, I sit in a lab looking at microscopes all day," Greg insisted, the lie becoming easier to say each time the words left his tongue. "I don't even deal with the bad guys."

She let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine. But you know they don't call it 'Sin City' for nothing."

"_Mom_…"

"Alright, alright. I just don't want to argue with you anymore."

"Trust me, I don't either," he muttered. There was a stagnant pause on both ends before Greg asked, "well, what did you want to talk about before, anyway?"

She hesitated. "I don't remember."

"You don't _remember_?" Greg scoffed.

"Well I was too worried about _you_ to think straight," she said defensively.

"I said I was sorry…"

She cut him off with a distant sounding "what's the matter?"

"Huh? Nothing, I told you…"

"No, not you," she said dismissively into the phone. "Just hold on for a second—we've woken up your grandfather…" Greg heard her from a muffled distance as her voice called, "no, Papa, it's Gregory…yes, yes he's fine… … …oh, you do? Now? … … Well, alright, I guess so…" She came back, speaking loud and clear as she said, "Greg, Papa Olaf wants to talk to you."

"Crap, I'm not in trouble am I?" Greg asked, knowing from experience that as cool as his grandfather could be, he was also a very tough disciplinarian.

"No, I don't think so," his mother said with a hint of amusement in her voice. "Here he is…"

Greg heard the phone being passed around as his mother's voice was replaced by a much deeper sounding one. "That you, little _gutt_?"

Greg sighed. He would always be a boy in his grandfather's eyes. "Yup, it's me."

"Where have you been, Gregers?" the man's deep, raspy voice asked. "Your mother worries for you."

"Yeah, I know…I'm sorry. I was just really busy at work."

"Ah, always busy." There was a brief pause on the other line, and then, "Everything is alright, then?"

"Yeah…yeah I'm totally fine, really."

"Your mother is not the only one who worries for you."

"I know," Greg said guiltily. "I'm sorry—"

"You already apologized. Say 'sorry' too much and the word will lose meaning."

Greg stored the older man's words of wisdom in his brain with the rest of his grandfather's life lessons. "Thanks, Papa Olaf."

"Just take care of yourself. _Farvel_, Gregers."

"Bye, Papa."

Greg heard the phone being passed around again before his mother returned to the line.

"You hear that, Gregory? Even your _grandfather_ was worried about you. Maybe you should get your cell phone fixed so we don't have this problem anymore."

"Oh, yeah," Greg muttered. His cell phone worked fine—he just didn't want her to end up calling him while he was at work. As long as she thought the device was broken, she could only call him at his apartment. "I'm just gonna get a new one, I think."

"Good," she said finally. "Now it's late, I'm tired, and I'm sure you're tired from working, so I'll let you go. Just get some rest, okay?"

"Okay, I will."

"And don't you ever think of scaring me like this again," she added sternly.

"I won't."

"Good night, Gregory. I love you."

"Love you, too."

"Take care, sweetheart."

"Bye, mom."

He waited a moment, just to make sure she was done talking, before hanging up the phone with a sigh and setting it gingerly down on its receiver.

_

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_

Well thanks the-amazing-lyndz for reviewing. Yeesh…only one review… I might have abandoned this, had it not been for all the alerts and even the few favorites it's gotten already. That and it has something to do with something else…or something like that :) I'll explain next chapter.


	3. Fannysmackin'

**Part III. Fannysmackin'**

"They're wearing costumes," Sara commented with disgust as she passed Grissom her findings.

He took the contacts in his hand with a shake of his head. "Great. So it's just a game to them."

"How…how's Greg doing?" Sara asked tentatively, as she had yet to see her injured friend since he was taken to the hospital.

"He's pretty banged up," Grissom answered monotonically. "But he saw me, spoke to me…if that's any indication, I imagine he'll be okay."

"You know that's not what I meant."

Grissom sighed. "He's…upset. Understandably so, except he didn't want me to tell his parents, or his mother specifically."

Sara raised an eyebrow as a concerned look crossed her face. "His mother? Why?"

Grissom shrugged slightly. "He doesn't want her to worry about him. I was going to call his parents, but now I'm wondering if I should leave that for him to do when he's ready."

Sara chewed on her lip, looking strangely forlorn.

"What is it?"

"We already contacted Greg's family," she explained. "Or Sofia did, when we were at the scene and Greg was being taken in an ambulance."

"Really? That was quick." He seemed to ponder this for a moment before asking, "do you know when they're coming?"

Sara shook her head. "Soon, I guess."

"Hmm. I only hope Greg tells his mother the truth."

"The truth?"

Grissom nodded grimly. "Apparently he's been telling his family that he's still working in the lab."

Sara was taken aback by that. She'd worked the closest with Greg during his CSI training but would have never suspected he was hiding the job from his relatives. She sighed, baffled by Greg's strangely reticent behavior. "I guess it's like you said—he just doesn't want them to worry about him."

"Are you going to stay with him?"

"Yeah, for a little while at least."

Grissom nodded approvingly. "Good."

"Just call me if you guys get any more leads, alright?"

"I will." He hesitated, looking like he wanted nothing more than to embrace her right there in the hallway. Instead he nodded again and walked away around the corner and out of sight.

Sara watched him go down the hall with a heavy heart before finally turning to the door of Greg's room. She took a deep, calming breath and slowly entered to see Greg lying before her in the bed. She'd been with him in that alleyway after the attack when he was bruised and bloody, but somehow seeing him bandaged and swollen seemed even worse. As bad as he looked, she was more shocked by the sound of Greg's sniffling and labored breathing as his lips quivered and he fought back tears. Her heart broke to see him so upset and as broken as he was. This should never have happened to him—not to Greg.

She pulled up a chair next to his bed and gently grasped his uninjured hand in her own. Tears slipped down his swollen cheeks and he turned his head away from her in the hopes that she wouldn't see them.

"It's okay, Greg," she said softly. "You're going to be alright…"

He let out a shuddering breath in response, his face still turned away from Sara's as he fought back his tears. "I know," he finally whispered in a small voice. "It's just…you weren't s-supposed to…to see…this…"

She shook her head sadly. "I'm here for you Greg, no matter what. It's okay if you're upset—I don't mind."

"I do," he whispered back.

"Greg…"

"Is Grissom still here?" he asked quietly.

"No, he went to work on the case."

Greg swallowed nervously. "Is he…is he gonna call my m-mom?"

"Greg," Sara said gently before answering his question with one of her own. "Why are you hiding your work from her?"

He let out a shaky breath. "I don't want to talk about my mom," he finally muttered.

"Well, what do you want to talk about?"

He groaned. "Nothing. _You _talk."

She smirked weakly at him. "What should I talk about?"

"Don't care. Anything. You and Grissom."

"Why…why would I talk about me and Grissom?" she said as she felt a slight flush rise in her cheeks. She didn't think anyone knew about her relationship with the senior CSI. "No, don't even answer that. If you can't talk about your mom, I don't have to talk about Grissom."

"Fine," he mumbled, all the while keeping his face pointed away from hers.

"Greg," she started softly. "Greg, I just want you to know that I'm really proud of you. Everyone is. You saved that man's life."

"But I hit a kid, a…a student," he whispered hoarsely. "I hit him, Sara…"

She squeezed his hand ever so slightly. "You did the right thing, Greg. Trust me—if I were in your shoes, I probably would have done the same thing."

He only responded with a sad sniffle.

"Greg…"

Sara wanted to continue trying to comfort him, to make him feel at least a little better in his distressed state, but she couldn't quite find the right words. All she could do was continue to hold his hand and gently caress his uninjured arm. Greg took some comfort in the gesture, as his labored breathing slowed a little at least. He became so quiet and calm, that Sara thought he'd fallen asleep while she watched the gentle rising and falling of his chest. But then they heard the sound of hurried footsteps from outside of the door and Greg immediately jerked to attention.

Sara, figuring it was another one of her coworkers coming to see how Greg was doing, didn't jump to see who was coming. She turned when she heard the door open slowly and was surprised to see an unfamiliar, older woman silhouetted in the doorway by the iridescent hallway lights behind her. Sara was about to address the stranger, when the woman suddenly gasped and brought a slender hand to her gaping mouth.

"Oh, Gregory," the stranger moaned, taking slow and shaky steps towards his bedside as she took in his battered appearance.

What little color was left Greg's face turned ghostly white as he stared back at her through heavily lidded eyes. His expression was one of almost horrified shock, much like hers was. "M-mom…mom," he whimpered. "…'m s-sorry…"

She leaned over him and put her gentle hands on either side of his neck, as they seemed to be the only places on his upper body that weren't visibly bruised. "My poor baby," she said softly while she planted a light kiss to his bandaged forehead.

Greg didn't try to say anything else—he didn't even try to be brave for his mother's sake like he had after the explosion over three years ago. He finally broke down and openly sobbed in her gentle and loving embrace, obviously no longer caring if Sara saw him cry or not. He kept trying to mutter apologies between shaky sobs but his mother just continued to hold him close while she whispered "shhh, it's okay…I'm here…"

The emotion of the scene moved Sara deeply, and she knew she should probably leave, to give them a little privacy at least, but she found she couldn't leave Greg's side. To both women it was as though the other wasn't even there—all they were focused on was the young man lying in the hospital bed, who was steadily losing his battle with unconsciousness as he sobbed himself to sleep in his mother's arms. She continued to hold her son even after his crying had ceased and all that could be heard was the sounds of his deep, somewhat raspy breathing.

The caring mother caressed her son's head for a long moment before she finally looked away from him and seemed to notice for the first time that Sara was in the room with them.

The CSI took the initiative and introduced herself to the woman. "Sara Sidle. I work with Greg."

She smiled sadly. "I might have guessed," she said slowly, her voice still thick with emotion as she stared down at her son. "I've heard a lot of nice things about you, Sara Sidle, from my Gregory. He's lucky to have such good friends. You know, the last time my son was in the hospital here a beautiful woman he worked with sat with him, too. I see now why he is so adamant about keeping this job."

She absentmindedly brushed a curly lock off Greg's bruised face. He was breathing deeply in what both women hoped was a restful sleep. When his mother turned to the CSI again, Sara saw fresh tears streaking the woman's face.

"Who hurt my son?"

Sara wasn't sure how much Sofia had told Greg's mother over the phone, and then she wasn't even sure how much information she should be passing along. The case was still open, after all.

"We're…not entirely sure," the CSI finally said. "There have been a number of beatings in the city since last night. The victims were all random, and we know it's a group of people that are doing this. We've got a suspect in custody, so it's only a matter of time before we get the rest of them."

"So…so this was random?" the other woman asked in shaky disbelief. "My Gregory was hurt for no reason?"

Sara hesitated again, now wondering how much of Greg's secret she should keep for him. "Not exactly. Another man, a tourist, was being attacked while Greg was on his way to a crime scene. He saw what was happening and tried to stop the gang from killing the man. Then they pulled him out of his car and did this."

"He saved that man's life," the very proud mother whispered sadly.

Sara blinked. "Um…yes. But how did you know…?"

"I didn't. My mother did. Or at least she alluded to it. Said Gregers was a hero, but at a terrible price."

"Oh, yeah," Sara commented with a weak smile. "Greg's mentioned his psychic grandmother before."

"He has?"

"He speaks very highly of his family around the lab. You, his grandmother, his Papa Olaf…"

The older woman's gaze faltered at the name. "They would have been here, too, but my father's been…sick." At the look that crossed Sara's face, she added, "nothing life threatening, I hope. But I…I haven't told Greg yet. He'd be devastated."

Sara nodded her understanding and the two women were silent again, their eyes locked on the injured young man before them. They were like this for a few minutes at least until Greg's mother spoke up with a question that Sara was dreading to have to answer.

"He was…going to a scene…" she started slowly. "Why was he going to a scene if he only deals with things in the laboratory?"

The CSI wasn't sure how she should go about answering the question, so she responded with the honest truth: "I'm sorry, it's not really my place to say…

The older woman sighed. "I already suspect he's been trying to become one of you CSIs."

Sara blinked. "You…you do? I thought Greg didn't tell you…"

"He didn't," his mother replied. "But I could tell something was different. His working hours were changing, he's been so busy these past few years…and he's even changed his appearance. You know, before a year or so ago I hadn't seen Gregory in a nice blazer since he was in school?"

"I guess he has matured his taste in coats, at least," Sara commented with a chuckle.

A soft smile grew on the other woman's wrinkled face and she suddenly started rummaging through her purse. "Would you like to see a picture of him?"

Perplexed, Sara nodded.

Greg's mother held a small, wallet sized picture in her wrinkled hand and the CSI could not keep the smile from her face when she saw it. It was a photo of Greg, probably no older than ten, standing proudly with a bright, brace infested smile on his young face beneath a short tousle of brown hair. Sara noticed he was wearing a clean cut school uniform, but couldn't quite make out the gold insignia sewn on the breast of the navy jacket. The neatly pressed shorts were navy like the blazer, but the white polo shirt he wore was wrinkled and only partially tucked in, making him look somehow ruffled and refined all at once. And to top it off were his bunched white socks and scuffed Chuck Taylor sneakers with haphazardly tied laces. For all intents and purposes he looked like a sweet, innocent little boy, much like he was still as a young man.

"Aww," Sara cooed. She couldn't help herself, even while Greg was sleeping right there in front of her. If he was awake, she was sure he would be embarrassed, especially to hear his coworker and once supervisor comment that "he was so cute."

Greg's mother smiled proudly at the photo she held lovingly in her hands. "He was, wasn't he? He was always so excited for school when he was a boy. I remember fearing that he would topple over with all the books he carried around in his backpack."

Both women laughed softly, and Sara could easily picture in her head this little version of Greg hunched over with a backpack twice his size full of science books far advanced for his age. She wiped tears of joy out of the corner of her eye while the loving mother placed the picture back where it belonged in her wallet. Then she turned back to her son and the sad expression returned as her eyes glazed over again.

"I hate seeing him like this," she said with a sniffle. "But I know I can't always be there to protect him. He's not my little baby anymore. He's a grown man now, with a good job and good friends to take care of him. I can't interfere with his life choices anymore."

"I think Greg'll be very relieved to hear that," Sara said softly. "He was afraid you would be upset."

"I _am _upset…but not just because he's been keeping secrets from me. I'm upset that he even feels that he needs to keep secrets from me. He was always such a stubborn boy…"

"Trust me, he hasn't grown out of his stubbornness yet," Sara joked.

The older woman didn't return the smile as she continued to watch over her sleeping son.

"Seriously though," the CSI continued after clearing her throat. "Greg is so lucky to have a family that loves him and cares about him. There are too many people out there that aren't as fortunate." Her voice trailed off slightly as she found herself reflecting on her own train wreck of a childhood.

Greg's mother finally looked up to meet the younger woman's eyes as she said genuinely, "thank you, Sara."

Sara blinked at her in surprise. "For what?"

"For being there when I couldn't. For caring about my Gregory. You're a good person, I can tell."

"Oh," Sara said, a light blush rising in her cheeks at the woman's commending words. "Well, thanks."

Sara wanted to keep talking to the woman—about what she wasn't quite sure—when the little device on her hip suddenly started vibrating. She was surprised she even got service in the hospital room, but there, staring at her from her closed cell phone was one new text message from Grissom. She flipped it open without hesitation and read the short, abbreviated note that to anyone other than a CSI would look like nothing but pointless coded gibberish.

"Oh wow," she commented. When given a quizzical look, she explained, "the one suspect we have in custody gave up another perp, whose car had transfer from Greg's Denali on it _and _the victim's wallet inside."

This meant nothing to the other woman, who only judged the meaning of the words based on the expression on Sara's face. "So that's…good?"

"Yeah…yeah that's great," the younger woman said enthusiastically as she stood from her chair and finally released the single handed hold she had on Greg. "At this rate we'll have the rest of the gang in custody by the end of the day!"

Greg's mother forced a smile but was nowhere near as excited by the news as Sara was. She was relieved her son's attackers would be brought to justice, but still…catching them didn't change the fact that her only child was lying broken and bruised in a hospital bed.

"Um…Mrs. Sanders?" Sara started hesitantly as the other woman blinked in surprise at the "Mrs." title. "Do you mind if I…?"

"Oh, no dear…go do what you need to do."

Sara nodded. "It was nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise," Greg's mother said with a genuine smile. "And thank you again for everything you've done."

"Anything for Greg."

Sara started to walk out of the room, hesitating in the doorway as she took one glance back at Greg, who was lying motionless on the hospital bed oblivious to his mother's gentle caresses. After a moment, Sara could even hear the woman humming softly some sort of lullaby that the CSI didn't recognize. But it was a nice, soothing sound that brought a warm smile to Sara's face and made her feel good to know that Greg would be safe in the hands of his adoring mother.

END.

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_Yay! Thanks for all the nice reviews, everybody. It means a lot, really :)_

_Meh, I never like endings, but here is where I leave it…for now… See, at first I wrote this because I had writer's block on other stuff. But it's been sitting around for so long and I've grown to love Greg's mother so much that I had to finally edit and post this in anticipation for another story with her that I started recently on a whim—a longer, much more entertaining story than this little three shot. Look for that sometime in the future, pending any major school related crises, of course :) Hopefully I'll actually finish it..._


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